The Game
by PM483
Summary: The story takes place in Season 2 of Sherlock and after season 5 of Dexter. Jim Moriarty have kidnapped the two persons who means most to Sherlock Holmes and Dexter Morgan, and now the two men have to fight each other. This is just a game for Moriarty, but for Sherlock and Dexter is it a matter of life and dead.
1. Chapter 1

**So I was asked to translate my Sherlock/Dexter crossover, so I gave it a try. But I'm that good at English so I hope that my story is readable :)**

* * *

**The Game**

**Chapter 1.**

The water was steady. It was another quiet night and in front of me was Miami, like a giant glowing lantern there would draw me back to land. Who would have thought that? Me, Dexter Morgan, a man who until a few years ago was empty for human emotions, could feel bonded to such a simple thing as a city. But Miami is more than that, Miami is _my_ city. My city which I once again had freed from a disgrace. A miserable man who didn't had deserved to live. The only things he had brought with him were pain and death. Four students had he raped and killed in the last six months. But that was over now.

I took the last black plastic bag with the remnants of Andrew Lee and threw them in the water. It made a _plop _sound and I looked at the rings in the water. _Bye, bye Andrew_. I stood for a moment and looked at the stars in the sky, enjoyed the silence. Harrison is with Cody and Astor at their grandparent's. Even though they don't have any biological relations to him are their home always open for him. That is nice, just what I needed to please My Dark Passenger's needs, and now when it is done, I still have a whole week without child noise. Dexter-time. Oh my, what should I do with all that free time?

I started the boats motor and headed back for Miami. It had seemed to be a good day. Until, I reached my apartment. The door was unlocked. But I _had _locked the door when I left. I took one of the knives I had with me and left the rest of my things at the door. I slowly pushed the door open. I could see the silhouette of a man in the middle of my living room. He just stood there with his hands the pockets. I turned on the light and stared at my uninvited guest. He didn't look afraid or nervous even thought I had caught him in act (Nor did the fact that I had a large butcher knife in my hand).

"Surprise!" said the man with a shrill voice but without moving a muscle.

I closed the door behind me and placed the knife on the little table at the door. Something told me that it wouldn't be any help anyway.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"A fan." said the man with British accent and came closer. "Fascinated by your work, Dexter." He smiled. It was an evil smile; I can recognize such one when I see it. "Jim." He stretched out a hand "Jim Moriarty."

I didn't moved and he took back the hand. But his smile was growing bigger. "I have been watching you Dexter."

Could it be true? Did this man know about what I had done to Andrew Lee? To others? My brain was trying to figure out a solution. Should I kill him? Did he even fit into Harry's code?

"I can almost hear how hard you are thinking." Jim said "But don't worry, I will not tell anyone about your little _secret_."

"But what will you then?" I asked. I realized that this man was way more dangerous than an ordinary thief.

"I want to play a game Dex." Said he and came really close.

My hand got on the knife. But in the same second as my fingers touched the cold metal, could I hear a gun being loaded. I looked to my left where the sound came from. There was another man who I couldn't see the face of but I could clearly see the gun in his hand there was pointed directly on my head.

"Don't do anything stupid, Dexter." Jim whispered. The man there was shorter than me, looked at me with his dark eyes. "I have something of yours and it would be a shame if I have to _break_ it." He smiled again.

I was fully aware of that it wasn't _something_ but _someone_ he had. If he already knew about My Dark Passenger, wouldn't there be anything in my apartment that he could take that I would miss.

"Who is it?" I asked and then my body froze. "Harrison…"

"Oh! You are fast" he said and took a step back. "But no, it isn't your boy. He is too young to understand what it is you are doing."

There was only one other person who mattered to me. "Debra."

Moriarty shook his head.

I was glad it wasn't Deb. How should I forgive myself if something happened to her? How should I explain her what I really am? But who should when mean something to me? There weren't others, only… "Lumen."

"Bingo!" Jim said again with his shrilly voice. "I _caught_ her when she was out jogging. And now is she back in Miami." He almost sang the last line.

I was about to jump on the man to make him say what he had did to Lumen. But then I heard the man whit the gun moving. I couldn't help her if I was dead. It had been a few months since she left Miami, but I still think about her sometimes. She was the only one, who knew about what I really am but still carried about me, a least for a moment. I couldn't let this man hurt her.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Wait." Jim said. "Wait until I have visited one of my old friends."

He walked past me and out of the door with his armed bodyguard. I didn't dare to move. I _couldn't_ move.

* * *

Quiet and peacefully. The only noise came from the cars on the street outside the window. Otherwise was everything quiet and peacefully. _Boring_. So unbelievable boring.

He was lying on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He had been lying there for three hours just waiting. Waiting for something exiting to happen. A murder that would be the best. But anything that could distract him from being bored was welcomed.

Sherlock couldn't hardly believe his own ears when a text messages suddenly popped in on the phone. For a change he had the phone in range, which was necessary when John wasn't home. But it wasn't Lestrade or Mycroft with a new case for him. It was something quite different.

_Can I come over for a little chat? JM _

Sherlock Holmes sat up. This had certainly made him curious. The last time he had heard from Jim Moriarty was when the man had threaten him and John at a pool. And then disappeared without a clue. But Sherlock hadn't really been worried about not seeing Moriarty again. Sherlock knew that Moriarty just like himself always was looking for something to distract him from the ordinary boring world they were living in.

Sherlock also knew that they had more in common than he could tell people about. That would defiantly make him look like a psychopath, not that he worried about what people was saying about him. But such a statement would probably cause that not even John would talk to him anymore and that would be too much for him. He got a new text.

_Never mind. I'm already here._

It knocked on the door to the flat. Sherlock opened the door and looked at Jim Moriarty. Sherlock didn't show any emotions while Moriarty was smiling

"Good to see you Sherlock." Jim said and walked past him.

Sherlock closed the door and turned to his guest. "What brings you here?"

Moriarty now looked just as emotionless as Sherlock. "I'm bored Sherlock." His eyes were fixed on Sherlock "Aren't you?"

"I can't deny that there are too few cases right now." Sherlock said and sat down in his favorite chair.

Moriarty took the seat opposite. "And so quiet here is when your little pet isn't home. Was it a weekend trip with the girlfriend he went on?"

Sherlock didn't worry about how Moriarty knew about John's private life. As long as John was safe could Moriarty spy on him just as much as he wanted. "Yes…"

Moriarty leaned toward Sherlock "What a shame the good Dr. Watson never will arrive to the hotel."

This was what Sherlock had feared. That Moriarty once again would hurt him by using John. But Sherlock held the neutral face, showing emotions would just make it worse. "What have you done to him?"

Moriarty sat back in the chair again. "I can imagine that it can be stressful to live with you, so I have sent the good doctor on vacation. I don't hope that he is afraid of sharks."

_Sharks. Shark attack. Places with high risk of shark attack. Long list, many obvious places. But also by adding obvious vacation places where people keep coming without thinking about the danger, Nr. 1 on the list…_ "Miami." Sherlock noted.

"Good, really good. You think fast when it comes to his life."

Sherlock didn't respond. He was too busy thinking about why Moriarty would send John over the Atlantic to Florida.

"I've to use drastic methods to get you out and play Sherlock. It's like you don't want to play with me anymore." Moriarty said and sounded disappointed.

Sherlock would like to _play_ with him. But as long as John was involved was it too personal for Sherlock to me impressed by Moriarty's _work_. "What do you want me to do?"

Moriarty put his right hand under the jacked of his expensive suit and took out a folded paper which he gave to Sherlock.

Sherlock unfolded the paper and looked at the man on the picture. He was in the early forties a miserable man. He looked tired at the camera it must be a passport photo. His black hair was sticky and so was his skin. This man looked like he had a sad life. "Who is this?"

"Andrew Lee." Moriarty replied.

"And what about him?" Sherlock couldn't see how this man could be interesting for Moriarty.

"He's dead."

Sherlock could still not see how this man, this _bum_, was interesting for a criminal genius like Moriarty. "You want me to find the killer?"

"I've already found him."

"Of course." It wasn't a surprise.

"But yes… I think you will find him, _fascinating_." Moriarty stood up and walked to the door.

"Is that all? All I have to work with is a name and a photo?" Sherlock had also gotten up. No matter how much he saw this as a challenge could he not avoid the fact that John's life depended on his results.

Moriarty was already halfway out the door when he turned around. "And a city."

"Miami…" Sherlock mumbled.

Moriarty smiled "Let the game begin."


	2. Chapter 2

**Here we go, chapter 2 :)**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Before he opened his eyes he touched his head. _It hurt so much_. He blinked a few times and looked around. There wasn't much to see, the room was almost dark and empty. He placed a hand on the cold concrete floor. It must be some sort of storeroom. John Watson sat up against the wall there just like the floor was made of massive cold concrete. His eyes got used to the dark and he could see that it wasn't a storeroom but more likely a basement.

John saw that there was a woman on the opposite side of the room. She sat with her head against her knees and her long blond hair was covering her arms there was tightly wrapped around her legs. John, who wasn't sure about what was been done to him, didn't dare to stand up because he was afraid that he would fall. So he started to crawl toward the woman.

"Are you okay?" John asked when he was a meter from the woman. He didn't want to get too close; she might believe that he was the enemy and therefore attack him.

The woman looked terrified at him. She hadn't heard him coming. "Who are you?"

John could hear on her accent that she wasn't from England, this woman was an American. John sat where he was, because she looked so scared. "My name is John Watson."

"Lumen Pierce." she replied. "W-Why are we here?"

John tried to remember what had happened. He had left 221B after he had ensured that Sherlock had enough food for the whole weekend (although he was convinced that it wouldn't be eaten). He should on a romantic weekend trip with his girlfriend, to try to save another doomed relationship. He was on his way to the train when a car was stopped and a man came over to him. He couldn't remember anything after that.

"Well I can imagine why _I_ am here," Lumen said with a shaky voice. "I've tried this before, but I can't imagine why they would take a man." She was still scared but she also looked a bit confused now.

John could almost imagine what she was talking about. But he had quite other considerations about why _he_ was in this basement. He knew it had something to do with Sherlock. It had _always_ something to do with Sherlock. But he had no idea about why this woman, Lumen, was there.

* * *

Sherlock had taken the first plane from Heathrow to Miami. And he had spent the last nine hours trying to figure out why Moriarty would send him so far away. But it was hard to think with all this Europeans there was ready for their vacations. They were so noisy. What in Miami could be so important that Moriarty would spend so much time on it?

Sherlock looked at the picture of Lee. He hadn't haft time to do a search on the man before he had left London and in his hurry had he forgot to take his MacBook with him. _Idiot_. He had said that to himself like thousand times. And the stewardesses had said that they would take his phone if he didn't turn it off. Just because of that risk that it would affect the autopilot. _They_ were idiots. That risk was so tiny that it was completely ridiculous.

Sherlock logged on the internet with his phone as soon as he arrived in Miami. But he couldn't find many data about Andrew Lee. There wasn't any obituary about the man only an article about that he was missing because he hadn't showed up at work. He had been a caretaker at a college; to be more specific was it the same college as four students had disappeared from in the last six months.

But that wasn't enough. He was sure it was Lee who was responsible of these girls disappearing but it didn't tell him who killed Lee. Sherlock needed help and whether he liked it or not, the only man who could help him was his annoying brother.

_I need access to all data about Andrew Lee, Miami, Florida. Put me in contact with the local police. SH _

_May I ask why you're in Miami? MH_

Sherlock became irritated; he hadn't time for Mycroft's stupid questions.

_Just get me the access, Mycroft!_

Sherlock had to wait 3 minutes and 47 seconds before Mycroft bothered to reply.

_Miami Metro Police Department. Ask for Lt. Maria LeGuerta, she owes me a favor. You must be desperate since you ask for my help. Does this have something to do with John?_

Sherlock looked at the clock before he put the phone back in his pocket. It was too late to visit the police now, so he had to find a hotel. He didn't want to answer Mycroft; he had already been more than enough in touch with his brother for that day.

* * *

It had been 24 hours since Jim Moriarty had been in my home and he had still not contacted me again. It was good I hadn't much to do at work, because all I could concentrate about was this mysterious man who knew about My Dark Passenger. I had looked him up on the Internet but that hadn't given me much. I had even tried to look him up in the crime registry, but as I could hear when I first met him was the man an Englishman and didn't appear in the U.S. register.

But even though a normal international search did not produce anything, I was in no doubt that this man was an expert in his profession. _Profession? Could I call it that? Well, I guess so._

However, I had found _one_ interesting thing. An English blog by a man named John Watson, where he wrote about cases which a certain Sherlock Holmes had solved. Those cases seemed complicated and I was impressed. Particularly that one which had brought me to the website caught my eye, a case where Jim Moriarty was mentioned. No not just mentioned; he was the main character. It had to be this Sherlock Holmes he had sent after me.

Consulting detective? Sociopath? So it was such kind of game Moriarty wanted. Sociopath vs. psychopath. _Or could I also describe myself as a sociopath? Well, never mind._ I could see it for me, how he wanted to see us fight each other. Master detective vs. serial killer.

Was I one step ahead? Or did this Sherlock Holmes already know all about me?

I got a text.

_I know its weekend. But I really think you should go on work tomorrow. JM._


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm glad to see that people like the story, because I really like to write it :)**

**But I have this biology exam on Tuesday which I really needs to read up on, so I think there will go at least a week before I've the next chapter ready…**

* * *

**Chapter 3.**

I hadn't had many hours of sleep. I had tried to find pictures of Sherlock Holmes, but it was quite difficult and I hadn't found any where I could see his face.

I was in the elevator on the way up to my department. I had switched working hours with Masuka so I could work this Saturday. I had to play by Moriarty's rules and if he wanted me to work today, well…

"What the hell are you doing here on at fucking Saturday? Deborah asked when she saw me.

"I switched with Vince; I think there was something he wanted to take to."

"It's probably something disgusting. You're too friendly to that little mite." Debra said in disgust.

_Oh my dear Debra, you are so easy to lie to. I'm almost ashamed of doing it, but only almost. _

"I would not be fucking working on a Saturday if I could choose," Debra said "The only reason why I'm here is because we have so fucking much to do on that Harris case. It's driving me _crazy_!"

I would have loved to give my dear sister some facts in the case about the missing Julia Harris, but I had already killed Lee, her murderer. At least had the police not spent many hours on looking after him. And now had they closed the case with a, _he's probably run off_. Oh it had been _so easy_, until Jim Moriarty came and destroyed my little paradise.

Debra went to her desk and I was on my way to my room, when LeGuerta stopped me. She came with a tall dark haired man who was better dressed than many of the police officers around us. This man didn't look like someone who had been outside in the Miami sunlight. And he was clearly not just a tourist. I was pretty sure about who he was.

"Dexter," LeGuerta said "this is Sherlock Holmes, a… _colleague_ from England." The word _colleague_ came reluctantly out of her mouth. She clearly didn't know how to describe the consulting detective.

"Hey," I said with the friendliest smile I could come up with and stretched out my hand "Dexter Morgan."

But Sherlock just looked at me. He was probably _reading me like an open book_, like Dr. Watson described it on his blog. I could just hope that he wasn't _reading_ too much. Unless Jim already had told him about me, what should I then do? Stab him as soon as he was out in a dark alley? No, that wouldn't be what Jim wanted. I had to do this right and for God's sake hope that Sherlock Holmes had killed at least _one_ person so I could bury him in the deep sea with some good conscience left.

"Lt. LeGuerta tells me that you have time to help me with some data about a man." Sherlock said with the same calmness as Jim Moriarty but without the shrilly tone Jim had.

I nodded. "Yes, come with me and we will look at it." _As long as it wasn't me we should look at. _

I lead Sherlock into my little room and sat down at the computer.

"Andrew Lee." Sherlock said.

I wrote password and the name and let Sherlock take my seat. I stood behind him against the wall and looked at all the available data he now had about Lee. He didn't write anything down, so he could probably remember everything in his head.

But how Sherlock remembered all those things weren't interesting for me, the only thing that I was interested in was that he didn't know that _I_ was the murderer.

* * *

She was both hungry and thirsty but those things weren't anything like the fear she felt. Lumen Pierce looked at the other prisoner, John; they hadn't said much to each other, in the many hours they had been there. But John had told her about his friend Sherlock Holmes, and that he was sure that Sherlock was out looking for them. She really hoped so.

At the sound of a door being opened they both turned their heads to where the sound came from.

And some more light was turned on. Lumen saw three men coming into the room. The first one was smaller than the other two who most of all looked like bodyguards. He was also the only one of the three who was in a suit. It reminded her of Jordan Chase, he had also hold a _certain standard _while his friends had bounded and raped her.

"John! Good to see you." the man in the suit said.

"I should have known it was you who is behind this." John replied coldly.

Lumen felt even more lost now when she apparently was the only one who had no idea about what was going on.

"And miss Pierce," the man said and came closer to her, while his bodyguards stayed at the door. "It's a pleasure to finally meeting you. My name is Jim Moriarty."

"What do you want this time?" said John who now was standing up. "Is this another sick game of yours?"

"A game? Yes." Moriarty nodded "Sick? Well…" he shrugged his shoulders "It depends on who you are." He said with an evil smile.

All the hair on Lumens body rose. This man was even scarier than Jordan Chase.

"But I will like to tell you the rules; after all you're the _awards_." Moriarty said.

"What the hell do you mean?" John shouted.

"Oh John you should know that I can't get Sherlock all the way to Miami if I don't have _you_." Moriarty said.

"Miami?" Lumen and John said at the same time.

"Have you taken me to America?" John said "Why the hell have you taken me to America?"

"If you please would let me explain the rules, _John_." Moriarty said and looked coldly at John and then he smiled. "I've visit Sherlock and Dexter and…"

"Dexter…" Lumen said. When Moriarty had mentioned Miami had she thought about Dexter and now was she afraid of what Moriarty had done to him.

"Miss Pierce!" Moriarty shouted "Please. Let. Me. _Finish_!" he blinked several times. "Thank you. So I gave them some clues and told them that your lives were in danger. And now… they just have to do what they do best, and the one who gets the other one first is the winner!" Moriarty ended his speech with a _weeeee_ sound.

Lumen felt like she was been hit in the face, and then stabbed in the heart. She looked at John; he probably didn't know that his best friend now was chased by a serial killer. But Lumen knew that Dexter was a good man, he had saved her life, he wouldn't hurt an innocent man, but if this Sherlock Holmes was a detective who would give Dexter to the police would Dexter probably end up on the death row. And she really didn't want to see Dexter dead. She hoped that he could work out a better solution than her.

"Oh and one more thing," Moriarty said "there will not be a price for number two." He grinned "I mean that would be so _stupid_!" he turned to his stone face again "Enjoy your stay…"

Now Lumen couldn't breathe.

* * *

"It's fine here." Sherlock said and paid the cabbie.

He was just a street away from Andrew Lee's house. Taking the taxi all the way to the house would be too suspicious. He had to look for more clues in the house there hadn't been much about Lee in the register. Only some speeding tickets, not any serious crimes.

And all the police officers he had seen _oh God_, it was like the station only was manned with Anderson and Donovan. It didn't surprise him that they hadn't solved the Lee case. Or found out the fact that Lee had killed four girls, it was obvious that it was him, he had taken a day off, the day after every disappearing.

And then there was that annoying blood spatter analyst, Dexter Morgan. He was annoying because he was so ordinary to look at, that Sherlock couldn't analyze him. Everything about the man was so relaxed, his clothes, his attitude and in general his look. But still, Dexter watched him the entire time he had been on the computer. Like he was the _only_ one on the entire station that actually carried about what a stranger was doing with their data.

Sherlock had reached the house. A crappie house in a bad neighborhood. It was still before twilight so Sherlock went to the backdoor. It didn't take him many seconds to unlock the door. There must have been some police in the house to investigate the missing man, but it didn't seem like they had done much. Everything was like Lee never had left the place. The car in the garage, his wallet and keys and anything else a man would take with him to go out, was still there. _He had never left the house. The murderer had killed him here._

Sherlock searched through the entire house without finding any drop of blood. But he did find the bedroom more interesting than the rest of the house because it was so clean. The layer of dust wasn't as thick as in the rest of the house. And what was that on the lamp in the ceiling? Sherlock stepped up on the bed and removed a tiny piece of plastic from the lamp. It was that sort of plastic which is used to cover things with while one is painting. But the ceiling hadn't been painted for years. The entire room had probably been wrapped in plastic too make sure that there wouldn't come any blood on the walls and furniture.

Sherlock looked around in the room. _This was the work of a professional._ _The work of a serial killer. _

* * *

It wasn't the first time John's life had been in danger. It wasn't the first time that he knew that his life could end any minute. But this was still different from the other times. Like Afghanistan or when he had been bounded to a bomb, there had he been in battle or at least active in a way. The adrenaline had given him a boost, but now… the only thing he could do now was wait. And even if Sherlock would find him, would it still mean that Lumen would be killed.

John hadn't any idea of who this Dexter was. He could be a police officer or just an ordinary man. No, Moriarty wouldn't take a random person and make him fight against Sherlock. Maybe Dexter was just like Sherlock?

John looked at Lumen. She hadn't said a word since she had heard that her friend (boyfriend?) was involved, and John had let her sit to give her time to think. But he had to know who it was Sherlock was up against.

"So who is Dexter?" he asked and made eye contact with her.

"I guess I just as well can tell it," Lumen said "but before I tell you anything, I want you to know that Dexter Morgan is a good man. He has saved my life, and many others."

John nodded. And then he head Lumen's story about how she had met Dexter and what he had helped her with. John listened to what she had to say about Dexter and he became more and more worried for Sherlock. Dexter Morgan had maybe only killed other murderers until now, but would that change now when he knew that Lumen was in danger? Moriarty clearly knew what Lumen meant a lot to Dexter, he probably knew it better than her. Why else would he kidnap her instead of Dexter's son or sister?

"You must mean a lot to Dexter." John said and tried to smile. He knew that there wasn't anything which could make their saturation better but they could at least be friendly to each other.

Lumen came with a little smile "Apparently," and then she looked at John "and you must mean a lot to Sherlock."

John opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't know what to say. So he just nodded once.


	4. Chapter 4

**So I'm finally done with chapter 4. Sorry that it have taken so long, but I have so many things to do right now :)**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

He was back. Moriarty stood and looked at her and John, with his two bodyguards behind him. Moriarty's face was just as expressionless as a stone.

"Maybe we should send some pictures to Sherlock and Dexter so they can see how much fun we have here. Isn't that a good idea?" Moriarty asked and smirked.

Either John or Lumen replied.

Moriarty took a phone up from his pocket and took a picture of them, as they sat there on the floor. "Well, it is a good picture. But I think that we can take some that better show all the fun we have. If you please…" he looked at one of the men behind him.

Lumen looked in terror as the man came over to her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her up. She was too terrified and exhausted to fight back – and she knew it wouldn't help anyway.

"Let her go!" John yelled. He got up and was heading for the man, when the other one grabbed him and held him back.

"Easy John, we'll get to you later." Moriarty said and stepped forward to Lumen. "But a true gentleman will always take the lady first."

Lumen stared into the cold eyes of the criminal mastermind. Then she was thrown into the wall by the man who had held her. And before she could react had he hit her with a fist in the face. The pain was indescribable and soon could she feel the blood from her nose running down her lips. She couldn't say what hurt the most, her face or the back of her head from being hammered into the wall by the hit. She touched the back of her head with a shaky hand and then looked at the blood on her fingers.

She once again looked at Moriarty and he took a picture of her. "Oh this one is much better," he said and smiled "I mean Dexter _loves_ blood. I will look forward to hear what the blood spatter analyst will analyze from this picture." He put the phone back in his pocket. "We're done with Miss Pierce…"

Lumen was now thrown to the side, and she landed on the hard concrete floor on her right shoulder. She managed to pull herself up to sit against the wall. But her entire body was shaken and in pain.

"So John," Moriarty said and turned to the other prisoner. "What do you think Sherlock would like to see?"

"Oh my God, you're sick!" John replied and looked at the man in disgust.

"Well…, you _are_ the doctor, so you must be right." Moriarty shrugged. "Boys, will you please send Dr. Watson through our special _treatment_?"

Lumen looked in terror as the man who had hit her hit John several times all over his body and in the face. She wanted to help him, but she couldn't move, she couldn't even scream at them. She just sat there and watched them torture the man until they let him fell to the floor.

Moriarty squatted in front of John. "So what do you think John, is this good enough for Sherlock? Do you think he likes the whole idea of a serial killer who works for the police? It must be something for him; I know he likes special cases and extreme ones too."

John could hardly breathe and he wouldn't look at Moriarty. He field so helpless when he just lied there, he looked over at Lumen. They got eye contact and John could see she was about to cry. He had to be strong for both of them, but it was hard when he was in so much pain and didn't could stand up against Moriarty's men.

"Johnny…" Moriarty whispered and turned John's head so he looked into the cold eyes of the madman. "You have to look into the camera." He said and took a picture of him.

John felt so humiliated by the way Moriarty treated him. And all he could do was putting on a stone face; it was the only defense he had left.

Moriarty smiled "You're such a brave soldier."

Moriarty and his men left the room again leaving some bottles of water _as thanks for the photos_. Lumen crawled over to John after she had taken one of the bottles. She used all of her strength to get him up to sit against the wall. His face was a mess of bruises and blood, she tried to wash away some of it with the sleeve of her hoodie and some water without touching his damaged face too much. And then she held the bottle to his mouth so he could drink because there was no way that the man could do it himself.

And though all the time Lumen was helping him, John just looked at her with a gaze that said _thank you_.

* * *

Sherlock was in Andrew Lee's living room, trying to figure out who had killed him (and clearly others two); no doubt this was the work of a serial killer. Everything in the bedroom was clean; there wouldn't be any blood there. And it was a planned murder too, the way the killer had covered the room in plastic. This man clearly knew what he did. So why Lee? A coincident? No, a killer with that good technique wouldn't just take a common caretaker. And it couldn't be about money or drugs. Lee clearly didn't have money, and Sherlock hadn't found any signs of that the man was addicted to anything. _Except having sex with college students and then kill them._ That was a good reason to kill someone, _revenge_. Could it be true? A serial killer who killed other serial killers? It would be brilliant or like Moriarty had said it; _I think you will find him fascinating_. And he sure did. A man who could find serial killers before the police, well the police he had seen was certainly not the best, but still.

But Sherlock had found serial killers too; he just needed some data from the police. Of course, _access to data_. If this man had access to all data about suspects, could he easily find his next target. It could be someone at the station, but it had to be someone more cleaver than those police officers he had seen. And then adding the most common characteristics of a psychopath; _normal looking, cleaver, good at controlling emotions…_

Could it maybe be a _very_ normal looking _polite_ blood spatter analyst? _Dexter Morgan_. Oh, that would be just perfect. But he had to find more evidence.

He received a text. A picture. Sherlock stared at the screen for minutes, looking at John's damaged face. All of the blood there was in his friends face and the look John sent the photographer. Sherlock knew John was brave but he couldn't beat Moriarty. And then there was the text:

_Hurry up Sherlock, you gonna miss the party. JM_

Sherlock put the phone away. It wouldn't help him to look at John. It just made him more angry at Moriarty and took away some of his concentration from the serial killer. He wanted to _beat_ Moriarty, not just by proving who the killer was; no he wanted to actually beat him up for what he had done to John.

* * *

I had left the department as soon as I got the chance, drove home to pick up my knives and now was I on my way to find Sherlock Holmes. He must be at Lee's house; that was where I would start a search.

I would kill him there so I didn't have to move around with his body. The man didn't exactly look strong, so I should be able to overpower and drug him. And then (once again) wrap Lee's bedroom in plastic and kill him there.

I wasn't happy about killing this man. He hadn't did anything wrong, not what I knew about. I could see Harry for me and hear his words; _this is an innocent man, Dexter_. But I didn't have a choice. It was Sherlock or Lumen who had to die. _And me_. If Sherlock told the police would I be a dead man. When it comes to trial is sunny Florida not exactly the best place for a murderer.

I parked my car some houses away from Lee's and grabbed the bag. But then stopped then I received a text and a picture. I tightened my grip on the phone so much that I almost broke it.

_So Dex, what do you think about my blood spatter? JM_

Once again could I picture Harry for my; _this is the man you should kill, not Sherlock Holmes_.

_I would love to kill that monster, but I don't have a choice_. There was no way that I could get to Moriarty without being killed myself. I had to kill Sherlock and do it fast before Moriarty laid a hand on Lumen again.

I went to the house and had the needle with the anesthetic drug ready. And I was right, he was in the house. I could see him through the window. He just sat at the table with his hands put together under his chin, staring at nothing. I went to the backdoor and opened it without making a sound. I sneaked through the kitchen and stopped at the door to the living room, the door was half open and I could see to the table, but he was gone. _Where is he?_

"Hello Mr. Morgan." A voice said behind me.

I turned around and looked at Sherlock Holmes. So he had heard me after all. But he didn't look every scared. I dropped my bag and tried to attack him so I could stick him in the neck but he blocked my arm. _The man could fight? _Well nice, but when it comes to this things do I not play by the rules. I used my whole weight to push him up against the wall. He might have brain and quick reflexes, but I have the muscles. He tried to push me away, and I was surprised about how strong he was, but by keep focusing on rescuing Lumen did I managed to hold him there. And I pushed my forearm against his neck to he hardly could breathe. He stopped struggling so much and I could pull the needle into his skin.

"See you again in a couple of hours, _Mr. Holmes_."


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update this time but my summer have been very busy. But here it is and I hope to have the last chapter up ready soon.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

I did as always; I wrapped the entire room in plastic, placed the drugged man on the plastic wrapped bed and taped him to it. Everything was as it should be except it wasn't. There was still something different about this time. It was not as it should be.

I can't do as I'm used to. I don't have any proves for his crimes. Don't have any pictures to show him, pictures of people he have hurt or murdered. The only thing I have is the picture of Lumen on my phone and the unspoken order from Moriarty to kill him. Because it was what Moriarty wanted, right? Of cause was it what he wanted, otherwise would he already had stopped me. I knew he watched me from a distance. But I couldn't take the risk that others were watching too so I had covered the window. I had not found any cameras when I covered the room, so maybe is it just me and Sherlock now?

But I'm sure that Moriarty would have stopped me by now if he wanted the consulting detective alive.

I was pulled away from my thoughts when the man started to move. He didn't panic as many of my other _playmates_, when they wake up. He just looked around, accepted that he couldn't move and when looked at me.

"Mr Morgan." He said it like he just had meet an old friend on the street and I wanted to play along.

"Please, just call me Dexter."

He turned to look at the ceiling, and began to talk very fast; "So does Moriarty also play with you? Or was it just because I was asking about Lee? I mean…" he stopped talking and looked like he would have hit himself if he hadn't been bound. "Of cause…"

He said it like; _of cause, I know what is going on…_ and I must confess that after have reading about him, he probably did, more than me.

He turned his face to me again. "Who is it? Who have he taken from you? I noticed there was a Debra Morgan on the police station, but since none of you are wearing a weddingring is she most likely a sister. So who is it? A girlfriend? A parent…" he had talked just as fast as earlier, but then slowed down again. "Ahh… It's a person who know about who you really are, isn't it?"

I was impressed by the man's ability to observe and conclude but also a bit terrified. I took the scalpel and made a little cut on his cheek, just big enough to take a drop of blood. I placed the little red pearl on a microscope slide and lay another one on the top.

"That is a modest trophy." Sherlock said.

"But easy to hide." I replied and laid the microscope slide on the windowsill and then turned to Sherlock again. _It is time_.

"You never answered my question." Sherlock said. "Who is it?"

I took the knife. I wouldn't reply. He didn't have to know.

"If you don't wanna tell me who it is. Then tell me this; how did you know about me?"

"I read about you on the web. I simply searched for Jim Moriarty, and when your name popped up. Pretty impressing carrier you have."

"Oh you have read John's blog." Sherlock didn't seem too happy about it "John describes everything like it's a big deal."

"Like you don't know the Solar System?"

"Oh not _that_ again!" Sherlock seemed to be pissed about that thing. He didn't seemed to care that he would die in just a few seconds, but something his friend had written months ago could clearly piss him off. _Interesting._

But enough with the fun. I raised the knife. But then it hit me, and I lowered it again. How could I be so blind? All this time had I only though about Lumen, but what if there was another prisoner? I had read those adventures of Sherlock Holmes _and_ John Watson, without realising that the doctor was missing right now.

"So you finally figured it out." Sherlock said.

"Why didn't you just tell me? I would have killed you." _Would? I still will_.

"I thought you were clever enough to figure it out yourself, but if I had been wrong, which would have been new, would I of course have stopped you." Sherlock seemed just as calm as before.

"He has Lumen." The words left my lips before I could think it through.

"So I was right again, he has your girlfriend." Sherlock seemed satisfied with being right.

"No, she's not my girlfriend, she…" for some reason couldn't I find the words to describe how I felt. _Felt? Real feelings? Yes, real feelings for Lumen._ "She is just really dear to me."

"Fine." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The fact is that this isn't just about us. And if you kill me now, am I sure that Moriarty will kill John too. Why shouldn't he? If Moriarty let him go, will John use the rest of his life on tracing Moriarty down, and then will Moriarty kill him anyway."

Sherlock was right. This wasn't just about him _or_ me and Lumen. But about him and John, _or_ me and Lumen. But it seemed like the last opportunity was the right one.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, but I don't have a choice."

Finally Sherlock Holmes showed some emotions, when his face twisted in pain.

* * *

He knew something had happened. He knew it as soon as he saw the triumphantly smile on Moriarty's face.

John still felt terrible, and it hasn't been many hours since he had laid on the floor almost unable to move. But now was he standing against the wall, ready to face Moriarty's men again.

"So I just got a text," Moriarty said and looked down at his phone. "It's from Dexter."

John skipped a heartbeat. It couldn't be true. Sherlock couldn't have lost, he couldn't be dead…

"John…" Lumen looked at him with so much sadness in her eyes that he couldn't stand looking at her. "John I'm so sorry."

He didn't reply. He knew she told the true. But he just couldn't…

"Don't look so sad John. I will let you say goodbye first." Moriarty smirked. "Anything else would be heartless."

John was so blinded by anger that he tried to attack Moriarty. But of course did he not succeed. The two bodyguards grabbed him again, and slammed him into the wall.

Moriarty didn't say anything he just walked to the door. One of the men let go of John and grabbed Lumen instead. The bodyguards led them upstairs and out in the fresh air. After being in the basement for a couple of days was fresh air a relief. And even through it was getting dark was the air nicely warm. But John didn't care about those things, and soon was he in the backseat of a car.

They drove in silence. John and Lumen didn't even dare to look at each other. There was nothing to say, nothing to do.

Moriarty wasn't in the car, but was standing at the front of the house they stopped at. He was there with another man. _It must be Dexter_, John thought. He didn't seemed like a serial killer, but when on the other hand, the never do.

Dexter didn't seemed effected about the whole thing, not before he saw Lumen. He didn't say anything, but John saw how his eyes immediately fell on her, and how his hands turned into fists.

"John, this is Dexter Morgan. Dexter, Dr John Watson." Moriarty introduced them like this was just an ordinary meeting between two strangers. John almost expected Moriarty to force them to shake hands, but fortunately did that not happen. John knew Moriarty was the brain behind it all, but this was still the man who had killed Sherlock.

"Shall we?" Moriarty asked and opened the front door for them. One of the bodyguards walked back to the car, and the other followed them inside.

Dexter led the way through the tiny house; he stopped outside the open door to a bedroom. "So I have almost cleaned up…" Dexter said and walked into the room followed by the others.

John's eyes were fixed on the filled black plastic bags in the corner. He was afraid that he would pass out.

"I have something for you," Dexter said, sounding a bit excited, to Moriarty who still stayed at the open door. Dexter walked over to him and handled him something from his pocked. A microscope slide with blood on.

"Oh thank you!" Moriarty said and came up with a big smile. Dexter also smiled a little.

John couldn't stand looking at them. They were sick. When his eyes fell on the bloody knife on the windowsill, Dexter's job wasn't done yet.

"So John, I guess this is the end." Moriarty said and John turned to face him. "Dexter will you have the honor?" he asked and the bodyguard handled Dexter a gun.

"Dexter, no…" it was barely a whisper, but everyone could her Lumen in the silence.

Dexter took the gun from the man and pointed it at John. John closed his eyes he couldn't stand looking at Lumen, couldn't stand looking at all the tears falling down her cheeks. He just wanted to get this over with. But instead of hearing the trigger click, he heard something heavy fall to the ground.

* * *

He tried as well as he could to hold down the heavy bodyguard until the anesthetic drug really worked. It was hard because the man was almost twice as big as himself and because the wound hurt like hell, and the pain spread to the entire left side of his body.

Dexter clearly knew how the human body was build and Sherlock was sure that he didn't have hit any visceral.

Finally the man seemed to pass out and Sherlock stood up. He had been hidden behind the door to the bodyguard had been close enough. Sherlock looked at John, his friend staring back at him with so many mixed feelings that it's hard to distinguish them from each other; surprise, relief, confusion, _anger_.

"Oh look who isn't dead. What a surprise!" Moriarty says, but shows no trace of surprise.

Sherlock took the gun from Dexter (which surprised the serial killer) and in a few painful steps was he centimeters from Moriarty, pointing the gun at his face. "Out. Now. I want to talk to you." When John would take a step towards them Sherlock added "in private." John stopped and stayed in the room as the two other men walked out.

Sherlock slammed Moriarty into a wall in the living room. "You didn't ask to see my body. You knew I wasn't dead." Sherlock whispered being close to the criminals face, and having the gun even closer to the man's temple.

"Of course I knew! Don't you think that I could see it? See that those bags weren't full of body parts? Don't you think that I would have asked Dexter to send a photo of your dead body if I really wanted to know?" Moriarty yelled, then lowered his voice and smirked "Don't you think I would have killed John right there in the basement if I was sure that you were dead?"

Sherlock tightened his grip on Moriarty's collar "Why didn't you check?"

"As I have said before; I like to see you dance. I like to play those little games with you. And you know that I will kill you some day. But seeing you and Dexter play was fun." The criminal pressed a finger into the wound so Sherlock's face turned into pain. "It's okay you didn't die." Moriarty whispered.

"I should kill you now that would make the world a better place." Sherlock replied.

Moriarty rolled his eyes. "Oh don't pretend you care about that."

"I care, when you keep involving people I know." Sherlock grumbled.

Moriarty's smile widened "You mean because I keep involving John? Don't pretend you would come all the way to Miami just for _someone_, it had to be the _one_."

Before Sherlock got a chance to reply could he hear a gunshot, glass that broke and a women scream.

"Did Dexter really think that a pair of curtains could stop my men from watching? I think you should go check on your doctor."

"It could just as well be Morgan." Sherlock replied, but his grip loosened a little.

"Do you really wanna take the chance?" Moriarty's cold eyes were fixed on Sherlock's.

Sherlock let go of him. Moriarty was right, he couldn't take the chance. And killing Moriarty would just cause that they all would die. He turned to walk back to the bedroom, hearing the front door open and the criminal saying: "See you another time Sherlock."

And then the door closed again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Done. I'm finally done with the last chapter. Thank you to all who have read the story, hope you enjoyed it**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

She dropped to her knees with tears falling down her cheeks. Her hands were shaking when she took his hand. His eyes were blurry and he would pass out soon.

The door opened and Lumen looked up. It was Sherlock. He looked at Dexter on the floor and something briefly fly over his face. It looked like relief, but it was soon gone.

Lumen turned to Dexter again. "Oh Dexter…" but she didn't get any response. His breathing was heavy and she wasn't sure if he would survive.

"I think it hit just over the heart," John said, he was kneeling beside Lumen to take a look at Dexter. "Sherlock call an ambulance. You need to see a doctor too." John said and looked at his friend's wound.

"I could say the same about you." The consulting detective said and pulled out his phone. "We gonna need a good cover story too." He said and walked out the room.

Lumen felt that there was hope for her and Dexter. If Sherlock came up with a cover story and didn't turn them in, they could walk free.

A few minutes later were Sherlock back. "They will soon be here with an ambulance, and as ordinary as it sounds, will we pretend to be attacked. Nobody will find it weird here in Miami."

"And what about him?" asked Lumen and pointed at the bodyguard who was passed out on the floor.

"We leave him here. Let Moriarty come and get him if he wants to." Sherlock replied.

So that was what they did. They left the man in the bedroom and got outside.

It was raining.

"Perfect." Sherlock said "Now will no one find it suspicious that there isn't any blood trace from Dexter being shoot or me being stabbed. And the bullet…"

"Sherlock." interrupted John with a warningly tone.

"What?" Lumen asked terrified, when she remembered that she didn't had thought about the bullet before.

Sherlock looked at John, like he wanted permission to talk again, and John nodded with a sigh. "The bullet is still inside Dexter's body, deadly close to his heart." Sherlock said.

Lumen's hands started to shake and she felt like she also would pass out.

* * *

"So how bad was it?" Sherlock asked and looked at John who just had entered the room.

"Well, two broken ribs and a cut in the lip. But beside that am I fine. And you?" John said. He was in the soldier mode; where he didn't want to show weakness.

"I'm fine." Sherlock replied in a monotone voice.

"Sherlock…" John said, when he didn't mention the wound.

The private detective rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. The doctors gave me a few stitches, and some pain killers." Not that he intended to take them.

"Sherlock please, tell just _how many_ stitches we are talking about?" John tried to stay calm.

"And why should that help? Just leave it, John." Sherlock said.

Sherlock knew John was tired, too tired to start a discussion with him. And John let the topic go.

He also didn't want John to worry about him. If it hadn't been for his and Moriarty's rivalry would John be in London, safe and without broken ribs. Sherlock felt guilty for his friend poor condition.

John sighed "So what now? Are we just going home, or what?"

Sherlock was pulled back to reality, and tried not to think more about his bad conscience.

"Yes." he replied and got up from the hospital bed. He didn't plan to stay until the doctors let him go. "We're not gonna find Moriarty here anyway."

"No he is properly long gone." John said bitterly "But what about… Sherlock, for God's sake!" shouted John when Sherlock had taken off the hospital clothes and stood completely naked in the middle of the room. "Could you at least warn another time?" he said and turned around, so he didn't have to look at him.

"So you didn't see any naked men in Afghanistan?" Sherlock asked while he was putting his own clothes on again. "That sounds pretty strange, especially because you were the doctor and is supposed to look at people's injuries."

"Just shut up Sherlock and put on those damn clothes!" John angrily replied.

Sherlock smiled, he had missed their little discussions.

"But as I was saying before," John said and turned around to look at his friend again, now when he had the most of his clothes on again. "What do we do about Dexter? Are we just letting him go?"

Sherlock had thought a lot about it. He wasn't happy about letting a serial killer go, but on the other hand, Dexter had let him live and therefore also let John live. Dexter Morgan didn't seem to be an evil person, and nothing like Moriarty, he just had his own way of dealing with the criminals.

"Yes." Sherlock finally replied. "We're just letting him go."

John looked relieved and Sherlock knew it was because he was concerned about that Lumen girl and Dexter's boy. It was so typical John.

* * *

Is this how it feels to be dead? It's so dark and quiet. _No, it isn't quiet_. I can hear noise somewhere. I can hear voices. And I know what I have to do. I have to open my eyes, but it seems so hard.

My fingers grabs around some fabrics, somewhere far away, outside in the noisy world. And I hear a voice again, a familiar one. It's Lumen, Lumen is calling my name. _I have to come back now_. I give it some tries, but I can't open my eyes.

_Come on Dex, you can do it. Come on my boy._ It's Harry who is talking to me now, and he gives me the final strength I need.

At first, my vision blurred, but when my sight is back to normal, is she the first thing I can see. Lumen is bent slightly over me. She looks… _worried_.

"Hey Dexter, are you okay?" she says and comes up with a little smile.

My eyes wander a bit around and I realize that I'm at the hospital. There are no handcuffs, no policemen. Is everything gonna be alright? _Maybe_.

"Yeah… I'm okay. And you?"

"I'm alright. I got some stitches in the head, but nothing serious."

My eyes fall on the nose brace. Her nose is definitely broken.

She saw where my eyes where landed "It's nothing Dexter. Seriously, you still have the bullet in you. My broken nose is nothing against that."

So this means I will die later when the bullet has moved around in my body?

Lumen saw my confused facial expression and smiled "Don't worry Dexter, the doctors says it's okay. The bullet will not move it will not hurt you. Everything's gonna be alright."

"Everything?" I find it hard to believe.

She smiled. "Everything. John and Sherlock have taken care of it all and…"

Before she could say another word, the door was slammed open, and in came my dear sister.

"Dexter what the fuck?!" said Debra looking confused about the whole thing. "When did you start to get involved in fucking fights with gangs?"

Gang fight? Was that our cover story? Could it really be that simple to avoid jail, and get away with it all?

"Dexter?" Deb said when she didn't get an answer.

"Dexter just helped two colleagues from London. What was the name of that dead guy they needed information about?" Lumen asked and looked at me.

"Lee, Andrew Lee." I replied.

Debra looked like she wanted to know more about it, but she didn't asked. There was clearly something else she wanted to know; "Isn't you that girl that _rented_ Dexter's house?"

"Uhm… yes." said Lumen nervously.

"So why are you here?" Debra asked.

"She just came to visit." I said. "Relax Deb; it wasn't Lumen who shot me." I put on a smile to make her drop the whole police questioning kind of thing. And it seemed to work.

Debra sighed. "All right I'm gonna go and grab a cup of coffee, before my head fucking explodes with all these weird things you have going on, Dex." She said and made an explosion look alike with thing with her hands. But before she opened the door she turned around. "Oh, and Dex? There are two British guys outside who wanna talk with you?" she was more confused than ever.

I nodded. "The policemen from London who is working on the Lee case, remember?"

Debra once again turned to the door while she mumbled (or she thought so, but it was high enough to hear) "…freaking Europeans… doesn't look like police at all…" and then she closed the door behind her.

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, at least she is a good cop."

Lumen smiled, nodded and sat down on the chair beside the bed. "You know, maybe I should stay" she shrugged "I mean; now we have even more secrets to share. And I don't think I can deal with it on my own."

"Really? You wanna stay in Miami?" _what was that? It felt like my heart was skipping a beat._

"Yeah." She leaned in over me, and kissed my lips. "I think it's the best, and besides, I've missed you."

I smiled "I have missed you too."

She gave me another kiss, when it knocked on the door, and Sherlock and Dr. Watson came in.

"We just wanted to say goodbye before we take the plane to London." The doctor said.

"John wanted to say goodbye, otherwise could we have taken an earlier plane…" interrupted Sherlock.

"Anyway!" said John and cut him off. "_I_ just wanted to say goodbye."

"So this is it? You're just gonna leave? No police or lawsuit?" I asked.

"No." Sherlock said. "Let us just call it a tie, and focus on capturing Moriarty."

It looked like he wanted to say something more, but before he got the chance, Lumen had embraced him in a hug something that didn't seemed to please him.

"My wound…" he mumbled with a twist of pain.

"Oh sorry!" said Lumen and let go of him.

"Well I could use a hug." John said and held out his arms.

Lumen smiled and gave him a hug, but not too hard because of his injuries.

"John, can you please take Miss Pierce outside for a second?" Sherlock asked. "I would like to share a word with Dexter privately."

John nodded; he seemed to understand what Sherlock was talking about. I also had my theories.

When Lumen and John had left the room, Sherlock stepped forward the bed. "You know there are risks that he comes after you again, right?"

Just as I had thought, I nodded; the thought had crossed my mind several times. And that's why I was glad that Lumen had decided to stay. It was much easier for me to protect her if she was near.

"But I don't think he will do that. You two were just pawns in his game…"

"He's really after you, right?" I interrupted.

"Yes. And as I said, I don't think he will be a problem for you two again, as long as you don't try to find him."

"Trust me, I would never do that." I said. I had to think about Lumen, Harrison and Debra's safety.

"Good. Then goodbye Dexter." He said.

We shook hands.

"Goodbye, Sherlock."

* * *

John could finally relax when they got their seats in the plane. The airplane seat was a nice change from the hard and cold concrete floor. He leaned his head back against the pillow, and fell immediately asleep.

It was a restless sleep with tons of dreams about what happened. Pain, anger, fear, it was all too much…

"John, John!" Sherlock says and gently shakes John when he could see his friend's sleep is too disturbed by memories.

John wakes up with sweat on his forehead, and with shaky hands.

For once Sherlock doesn't say anything, but he deeply wished he could do something to make John feel better, or so he at least could get some sleep.

There comes a stewardess around, offering food.

"Oh God yes." mumbled John, when the hunger took over. He had almost forgotten how hungry he was after all these days without food. There had been enough other things to think about, and tiredness had also taken over. But now could he feel the hunger.

It wasn't because the airplane food was particularly delicious, but it was better than nothing, much better.

Sherlock, who also had got food, gave it to John. "You need to eat." He said.

John handled it back "So do you."

"Don't be ridicules John, I'm not gonna eat _this_." Sherlock said and looked disgusted at the food. "And besides, it isn't me who has been locked in a basement for days. Eat." He once again handled the food back to John.

"Well thank you Sherlock." John says, finally excepting the food. He knows Sherlock probably haven't eaten much, but he must also admit that he is _very_ hungry.

While John is eating his (their) food, Sherlock looked to be in deep thoughts.

"Don't worry Sherlock; we will get that bastard someday." John said.

"That is not what I'm thinking about." He replied dryly. "I just don't understand it."

John almost started to laugh. Could it be true? Was there really something Sherlock Holmes didn't know? "So what is it you don't understand?"

"Why would Moriarty kidnap that woman? She was out of Dexter's life and she already knew everything about his secret. It's not likely for Moriarty to be nice to people. He could have kidnaped his son or sister." Sherlock seemed _frustrated_.

John wouldn't exactly describe it as _nice_, just because Moriarty had kidnaped someone who already knew about Dexter's secret, but he knew Sherlock didn't meant to be cruel. "Well…" he said, not sure what to say. Who could know what was going on in Jim Moriarty's head? "I think Moriarty knew that Lumen meant something to Dexter. Dexter maybe has a dark side, but he's also a good person who takes care of his friends. And she has accepted what he is."

Acceptance. That sounded reasonable. It was like John who accepted him and his odd behavior. But it still didn't make completely sense to Sherlock.

"I just thought Moriarty would take the most important person in Dexter's life just like …" Sherlock stopped himself, he had forgot all about John's I-am-not-gay-and-do-not-make-me-look-like-I-am thing, and he thought, that be referenced to be the most important person in his life, was something John would put in under that topic. And also he didn't exactly wanted John to know that he really cared about him.

John smiled for himself. "Maybe Lumen means more to Dexter than we know."

Sherlock just mumbled in return, but that didn't irritated John. And being the _most __important__ person_ in Sherlock Holmes life didn't either. It would properly guarantee him more trouble along the way, but it was all worth it.

"You're also my best friend, Sherlock." John said and yawned, because he still was so damn tired.

"I think you need to sleep." The other replied, don't wanting to discuss the topic.

_Well, admitting that he actually have friends must still be too much for him_, John thought to himself, and tried to go back to sleep.

* * *

A couple of seats behind Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were there another man, a man with cap and sunglasses, in some ordinary clothes. No one would ever imagine that he would own a Westwood suit; he more looked like a bum who had been lucky enough to sneak on board.

The woman beside him wasn't happy to sit so close to the disgusting man, so she had turned her head away from him and tried to sleep. But that didn't irritate him. No, the only thing he was interested in was the two men few meters away.

He just sat there, looked at them, leaned back so you couldn't tell if he was asleep or not because of the glasses.

And his thumb was gently caressing a microscope slide with a drop of blood inside.


End file.
